Cutting the Dog's Hair

Sam, the dog, has so far been in our home for seven years. He's probably eight years old, but the shelter was vague about his history, didn't remember his birth name or exactly how old he was. He was an import from Taunton's kill shelter, (now there's an oxymoron!) but he was rescued by the Milton Animal League, a no-kill shelter about two miles from our new home and we found him as they did, big and black and shaggy, so big in fact, that the shelter had named him Bear. But belying his name he was not the least bit aggressive, lying in a depressed heap kowtowing to his dominant mother, politely waiting to eat and pretty much deferring to everyone and any dog who crossed his path. He was so calm that I thought the shelter was mistaken, that he was really way past a year old, on his last legs and not likely to take up much space in my life before he passed on to the dog netherworld, and being only a little better than Taunton, I was pretty happy to take him home for a while, hoping that his shelf life would last just until my daughter went off to college. Wrong.

After we brought him home, the first thing we did was drop him off at the groomer for a shave and a bath. Phew! He came back acting like Sampson with his strength gone, not only did he look completely different, but he was so embarrassed to be naked that he spent the next day crawling under tables and hiding behind chairs. His tail was long, ropy and bare like an opposum's. I was embarrassed for him and believe me, baldness usually makes me feel proud. This was acute and sudden baldness, no time to develop pride. Think of chemo victims with their heads hunkered discreetly down between their shoulders wrapped in tell-tale scarves. Sam didn't even have a scarf.

That should have tipped me off right away. The dog was clearly, obviously, undoubtedly, embarrassed. Who knew that dogs could be embarrassed? I felt for him, poor guy. But he got over that pretty quickly. Maybe a day or two, a week at most. Hair grows and haircuts wear off. But more importantly, to me anyway, I didn't even notice that Sam was already growing on me. Dog empathy?

I must say, once he got over the embarrassment, he looked like the bright young guy that he was. He strutted like any cock in the barnyard, his tail held high, sniffing every rock in the neighborhood and pissing on it just for show. I was proud just to know him, but uh oh, I thought, this guy is going to last a long time around here. Little did I know.